Page 43 of The Bloodfeather Promise
Chapter Eleven
She’s a fever
She’s a chill
She’s a high
She’s a thrill
She’s an angel
And all I want.
Yeah, I’m the devil
But it’s me she haunts.
-Seven Seconds
Greyson
The level of willpower it takes to step away from her astounds me. Everything inside me is screaming to pull her closer. To kiss her so violently and so hard, she’ll forever taste my mouth on hers. I want to wrap myself up in her until she and I are so entwined, she won’t know how to breathe without me.
This is some high-level obsession right here—sure to freak her out. Instead of doing what I really want, I back off, taking satisfaction in the desire darkening her blue eyes. There’s something so sweet and familiar about the way she fits in my arms. That breathy little moan of hers turns me inside out.
Discovering Emerson likes having her hair tugged is an entrancing bit of information I’ll definitely use at a later date.
I untangle my hand from her ponytail. My arm stays around her waist.
“Thank you again for the photograph, Emerson. I love it.”
I’ve no intention of letting her go, and Emerson stiffens, her spine straight as a longboard. But I do nothing more than turn our bodies toward the sunset.
What happened to her before I arrived in Sea Cove?
I wonder if she will ever confide in me.
I wonder why I want her to.
“Watch the sunset with me. It’s too beautiful not to share, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have here with me.” I pull the inky silk of her ponytail away from the nape of her neck.
She cuts her eyes at me, doubting my words I know, but I really mean it. This feels right. Everything about her feels right. Her in my arms. The sunset. That whisper of a kiss. All of it is perfect.
Should I tell her she’s the only girl I’ve watched a sunset with? Will it freak her out if I admit I want to see the sunrise with her, too?
I brush my lips over her forehead and damn if she doesn’t sigh, her body melting just a little against mine.
“Okay,” she says in a soft voice. “And, Greyson? Even though I wasn’t sure about coming here tonight, I’m glad I did.”
Fuck. My addiction to Emerson Jane Banner could reach dangerous heights, but I don’t care. I need her like I once needed the artificial happiness my drugs and alcohol provided. It’s the same feeling, only more intense. Emerson isreal.She’ll ruin me. Hell, I’m expecting it, but whatever happens between the two of us, it will involve true emotions, emotions I’ve ignored and avoided for a long time.
Emerson shifts until she’s facing the horizon. I position myself behind her and a little to the side. It’s the quintessential prom photo pose. I never realized until now how effective it really is. I can hold her, but not too tightly. I’m able to touch her, but only with my arm curving around her waist, my hand resting lightly on her abdomen.
She’s hyper aware of my body. I can tell by the way her breathing changes. The way she bites her bottom lip and runs a hand over her own neck as if checking a piece of jewelry. I already know her ‘tells’ when she’s nervous, and it makes me smile. Because I’m not standing directly behind her, because her sweet, curvy ass does not line up dead center with my dick, my position is truly non-threatening. If we really were a couple, I’d lean over and nuzzle the lovely hollow in the nape of her neck. I’d breathe in the intoxicating scent of her perfume, let my hands trace her curves until I knew every single one intimately. Whisper in her pretty ear everything I would do to her.
But I can’t do that. At least, not yet. So, I steel myself and steady my resolve. I won’t scare her off.
We watch the sun sink into the sea to the sounds of Smith’s version of “Baby, It’s You” playing low in the background. As a die-hard rock and roll guy, I have great respect for those who paved the way before me, and those fighting to make their mark now.
